Is Charlie Manuel feeding Pedro to the dogs?

7th inning, Game 7, 2004 ALCS, Yankee Stadium. I remember it too well. Up 8-1, the Red Sox were on the verge of completing the greatest comeback in baseball history. Yankee Stadium was silent. I was euphoric.

And then, inexplicably, improbably, incomprehensibly, Terry Francona summoned Pedro Martinez to pitch.

In 2004, Pedro was already in decline. He was still great, yes, but he was a far, far, far cry from the Pedro of years past. And in his previous two starts in that year's ALCS, he had allowed 7 runs in 12 innings.

I still don't know why Francona did it.

(Well, I think I know why he did it: Pedro needed redemption. Not just for how he had performed up to that point in that series, but for how he had performed in, ahem, a certain other Game 7. But for the game, for the team, for Red Sox Nation, it was a silly, ridiculous, absurd move.)

Visibly amped up for this appearance -- clearly too amped up, enough to lose control of his emotions -- Pedro got absolutely obliterated by the Yankees. It was like batting practice for them. And Yankee Stadium came to life. It was awful. Just a few pitches into the inning (consecutive doubles by Matsui and Williams on what I recall as one straight, lifeless fastball after another) and I was mush. This is supposed to be a moment of triumph! A moment I'll remember for the rest of my life! Why Terry, WHY??!?

Thinking about it today, it felt like Pedro allowed 20 runs that inning. In fact, he only allowed two. But the damage had been done. After systematically ripping the heart out of every Yankees fan over the last 3 games and 6 innings -- beating their team in every conceivable, cruel and crushing manner possible -- those fans had hope again. There is nothing worse than a Yankees fan with hope. Nothing. So because of that, for what he allowed to happen, to this day, part of me still hasn't let myself forgive Francona for it.

Game 2 of the World Series will be Pedro's first playoff appearance against the Yankees since that awful moment in Game 7. So I ask: Is Charlie Manuel pulling a Terry Francona? Is this a sentimental start, a chance for Pedro to finally redeem himself?

I'm sure Manuel would laugh that question off. As it should be laughed off. But does part of him think that, just a tiny, tiny bit? Well, at the very least, it's crossed his mind.

Either way, Phillies fans should just go ahead and write off Game 2. Because Yankee Stadium will be shaking. Freaking electric. And Pedro, unless he can find some zen-like way to contain his emotions, is going to try to overpower the Yankees lineup. He can't overpower the Yankees lineup.

Phillies fans: take your well-deserved win in Game 1 and be happy with it. The series will be tied at one apiece going back to Philly.

However! I will add that despite my near certainty that Game 2 will transpire like this, and despite my absolute hatred of all things Yankees, I'm still very excited for tomorrow, to see the moment Pedro steps onto the mound to start the bottom of the 1st. It will make for great, great theater.

And hey! Maybe, just maybe, Pedro will prove me wrong.*

*I pray he proves me wrong, and finally redeems himself.**








**And I think he can do it.

The drunken Miggy Cabrera baseball playoff preview

Two years ago, I brought you The pom-pom baseball playoff preview. Last year came The John Higgins baseball playoff preview. So this year? Well, you didn't ask for it, but you got it: the return of the baseball playoff preview!

The inspiration for this year's preview goes to a player whose team didn't even make the playoffs. The Tigers did come tantalizingly close to doing so but ultimately choked away a division lead and lost out in a one-game tie-breaker -- a game that looked like it may have been one for the ages* -- to the Twins on Tuesday.

*For all the baseball watching I've been doing on the Internet the last few years, this may have been my best experience yet, the one that felt the most visceral. I really felt like I could get into this game, that I could imagine the moment, the crowd, the tension. MLB.com's Gameday is pretty freaking good, and its latest integration with a Twitter feed, which allows you to track people's reactions right next to a pitch-by-pitch account of the game, makes it all the better.

Miguel Cabrera, you're an idiot. You get paid $14 freaking million dollars a year, yet you feel so little responsibility towards your team, your owner and your fans, that you don't care about playing at full capacity? After a big night of drinking, I can hardly walk, yet you go out knowing that you're gonna have to hit a 95 mph fastball the next day? That's a joke. A joke! I don't get it. You have practically half a year worth of the offseason to drink to your heart's delight, yet in the middle of a pennant race, as your team's division lead is dwindling away, you're getting so drunk -- not to mention with members of a rival team! -- that your GM has to act as your babysitter and pick you up from the police station at 7:30 in the morning?

And I don't even care about the drama that resulted from the drinking, the shady bickering with the wife; that's another issue that needs to be dealt with separately. It's the fact that you went out at all... just absurdly dumb, arrogant and irresponsible.

Oh. And then there's your responsibility to me. That's right. ME. I had you on my fantasy baseball team, and coming down the stretch this year, when I needed you most, here are your stats for the last week of the season: .158 avg, 1 run, 0 home runs, 0 RBIs, 0 stolen bases. Faaaaaaaaantastic.

Okay. Phew! Rant over. And with that pleasantness out of the way, let's get to it.

Minnesota Twins
I like this team. Not just the 2009 Twins, but the Twins franchise in general. And I'm pretty sure I'm not alone here. Just something so likable about them. Especially because they seemingly persevere every year without the resources of the big market teams. In the last six years -- just because that's how far I cared to look back, but I'm sure the same would hold true if I looked further -- here's how their payroll has ranked against all 30 MLB teams: 19, 20, 19, 18, 25 and 24. Here's how their record for each of those years has ranked in the league: 6, 11, 3, 17, 10 and 11. For those keeping track at home, the average of their record versus the league is ten places higher than their salary versus the league. That's good.

Colorado Rockies
Yawn. They were hot going into the playoffs in 2007, and I correctly picked them to go to the World Series. They're hot again this year going into the playoffs, but, well, they just don't seem to have that je ne sais quoi. Really, nothing they do is above average; it's all relatively solid. A recipe for postseason success this does not make. Pass.

Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim
Let's make a pact to not make fun of their name anymore, okay? The whole "Los Angeles Angels of California in Orange County of Anaheim off the 405" thing has gotten old. And you know what else has gotten old? It really pains me to say this, but I think it's the Angels' futility against the Red Sox in the postseason. This is the year the Angels get by the Sox. Maybe Mike Scioscia* will finally overcome whatever makes him cower in the presence of the Sox. Maybe the Angels will release a real, rabid, rally monkey into the Sox' dressing room. Maybe the Ghost of Nick Adenhart will strike. Or maybe the Sox will simply come undone. (More on this later.) I'm not sure exactly what it'll be, but I just have a feeling that it's gonna happen.

*Yes! Didn't need to look up how to spell his name!

St. Louis Cardinals
This is a good team. A frightening team. You know how I said the Rockies don't do anything really well? These guys do a lot of it well. Really well.

New York Yankees
It was nice not having them around last year, right? Oh well... guess it would've been a bit nuts to think we could make it two years in a row. But I'm happy to report that they're not going to the World Series. To the ALCS, yeah, probably. But that pitching... I'm not convinced. I could easily see CC throwing a stinker or two, AJ will throw multiple stinkers and Pettitte's 85 years old. Glad we can dismiss them!

Philadelphia Phillies
The defending champs! My God, I was so happy to see them win last year. One of the highlights of the year for me. I walked around with a grin on my face for the rest of the day, not at all for me, but for the people of Philly. That was awesome. But this year? I'd like to feel good about them -- really, I would -- but that bullpen... yeesh. Sorry Philly, but you can only cash in on so much karma at a time, and that was well and truly done last year. There's none left. That's kinda what happens when you boo Santa Claus, throw batteries at opposing players and cheer when they suffer near-fatal injuries.

Los Angeles Dodgers & Boston Red Sox
Like last year, I'm grouping them. I'm know. It's gutless. But I can't separate them. I won't separate them. Still, I'm comforted this year by a simple fact that didn't hold as true last year: both of these teams are flawed. Deeply flawed.

The Dodgers have holes everywhere. They also have holes nowhere. If the Rockies are your prototypical solid team without any flash, the Dodgers are your definition of schizophrenia.* The question is, which team shows up? The one with perhaps the deepest lineup in the NL? The one with two starting pitchers who can match up with those on the Cardinals and Phillies? Or will Manny continue his space cadet ways? And will the inexperience and inconsistency of the Buzzsaw and Kershaw shine through?

*Yes! Absolutely had to look up how to spell that!

The Red Sox are -- sigh -- the Yankees of the last few years. Their roster is seemingly full of immobile 1B/3B/DH types. They're old. They lack the passion of previous Sox teams from this decade.* So I just can't get excited about their prospects for this year. Next year? The year after that? All the way through the teens? In Theo and Co, I absolutely trust. But this year? In the immortal words of Dana Carvey impersonating George H.W. Bush, a na ga da.

*I want to be perfectly clear that I'm talking about this Sox TEAM, not the organization. Yeah, the Sox franchise may be more similar to the Evil Empire than any other franchise, but they're still different enough. As in the Yankees' payroll is $80 million dollars higher (over 50% higher!!) than that of the Sox. As in Theo could outwit Cashman any day of the week. As in John Henry is actually sane.

Wow. Going into this, I really didn't have much of a sense of who I thought would win each round, and I wasn't even sure I wanted to make any picks. But I think I just worked myself towards some clarity, and I'm happy to make them official. To recap, I guess: Yankees over Twins, Angels over Red Sox, Cardinals over Dodgers, Phillies over Rockies. Angels over Yankees, Cardinals over Phillies. Angels over Cardinals.

So! There we are. Another baseball postseason staring us down. I'm excited. Who knows how many games I'll get to watch, but I'll savor every opportunity I get. And hopefully next year -- just maybe! -- Miggy will lay off the booze. He has all this postseason and several months afterwards to drink himself silly.

Procrastinatin' with some Kleinballs while I curse myself

Well, in case there was ever any doubt, it's now official: I'm an idiot.

Somehow, over the last several weeks, I came under the very erroneous impression that Sam and Sarah were arriving this morning. I mentally circled the date in my head, and all errands and activities this week were planned so that I'd be free today to pick them up from the airport and start our two-week adventure together.

I emailed Sam and Sarah on Wednesday, the day they were gonna head off from New York... that is, if they were to arrive in Sydney on Friday morning. I told them that I couldn't believe they'd be leaving New York "today" and that I'd be waiting for them at the airport on Friday morning. I even provided this link to my post about their visit, in which I clearly say that they'd be coming on Friday morning.

Sam and Sarah responded to my email. Below are some excerpts from each of their emails:

• Email #1, from Sarah: "Still awake haven't slept yet way too pumped."
• Email #2, from Sam: "I'll confirm the flight when I get to work. I can't believe this. 2 weeks in oz baby!!"
• Email #3, from Sarah: "Can't believe we leave tomorrow!!!"

Any mention in these three emails that I was under the very wrong impression of which day they'd arrive on?? NO! In fact, Sarah's first email almost confirms my understanding. Was she so excited that she couldn't sleep two nights before she was scheduled to leave? Because that's the only way to interpret her words.

It wasn't until Sarah's last email, in which she says they'd be leaving "tomorrow" (in response to my email in which I said -- and I quote -- "Holy shit, you guys leave today. TODAY!!!") that I realized something was amiss. For not only did she say that they'd be leaving "tomorrow" (Thursday), but according to my calculations (which were based on my faulty understanding), she should have been about 30,000 feet over Colorado at the time she sent it. So I searched through my old emails, found Sam's original email with their flight info, and there it was: arrive Saturday morning. Yep, I'm an idiot.

ANYWAY.

Now I've been sitting in my apartment all day with nothing to do because I had left my schedule wide open to hang out with them. Now there's nothing. So in an effort to make the day pass, I figure I'd throw a couple of Kleinballs out there.

Man beats up 'kangaroo Jackie Chan' in house. A good and intriguing headline, no doubt, but after reading this story, my lord, the possibilities are endless! Someone get the New York Post on the phone! A few options that I very hastily came up with in about 3.4 seconds:

• Man confuses kangaroo with lunatic ninja, goes Seven Samurai on its ass.
• Kangaroo shreds mans underpants.
• Chef cooks kangaroo, kangaroo's cousin attempts to exact revenge on chef's family.

Okay, I'll be the first to admit that these all could use some work -- I swear I used to be good at writing headlines -- but there are some beautiful tidbits in that article. One thing's for sure: only in Australia.

Peanut butter sales are plummeting. I've had nightmares about this. (Wait, maybe this is a good thing? All the more for me to horde?)

You may remember my Movember adventure from last November, and that for those people who donated on my behalf, I sent out a daily email with pictures of my slow-to-grow moustache. Robert, who will himself be landing here in exactly one week's time -- and don't worry, I'm positive of this date -- put together the following brilliant video that chronicles my 'stache:

This baseball off-season, if the Red Sox had signed CC Sabathia to anything comparable to what the Yankees ultimately signed him for, I would have been furious. Insanely overweight pitchers (and he's the second heaviest in baseball!!!) with huge workloads over the past two seasons (including many starts on three days rest late last year) don't exactly have the best track record one, two or seven years into the future. So I was all for the Yankees signing him to that albatross of a deal: $161 million over seven years. Anyway, I know it's only Spring Training,* but nonetheless, this pleases me to no end. Let the glorious revisionist history begin.

*And of all people, I'm the one to generally put zero stock in how players perform in March.

The National Rugby League here begins its season tonight. And just to make things really interesting in the lead-up to the season, earlier this week, one of the best players on the defending champions was accused of sexually assaulting a 17-year-old girl. As if that's not insane enough, a team executive recently had the tenacity to fault the league's salary cap for creating an atmosphere in which that might happen. Riiiiiiiiight. Anyway, I hadn't even heard of this ridiculous assertion in Australia until it was picked up by an American web site. I'm not even going to try to explain; you can read the absurd logic for yourself.

Along with the beginning of the NRL season comes the beginning of the fantasy leagues, and most of my friends in my neighborhood are all in the same league. I thought I could be bad when watching a game that had implications for me in fantasy baseball, basketball or football. But these guys... yikes. They take it to a whole new level.

I guess it's comforting to know that I'm not the craziest person out there. Just an idiot.

Woe is freaking me

The title of this post is the line I used in an email to some friends yesterday, and it's really quite apt in capturing the essence of my last 48 hours. Consider the following:

Monday, circa 3:00pm
I duck out of work for about an hour to watch the Sox, down 3-1 in Game 7 of the ALCS, tease me in the eighth and ninth innings and ultimately lose to the Rays.* Not to take anything away from the Rays, for they are a really good team, but that's a game that the Sox should have and could have won. And probably would have won a year ago.

*Somewhere, a higher power is saying: "Let me get this straight. You have two teams. They both made it deep into the playoffs. This is a good thing. Yet you’re bitching about the chance of them meeting up in the World Series??!? Fine, you’ll get nothing and you’ll like it." As I've said from the beginning, I brought this upon myself; I deserve whatever comes to me. Including this.

Monday, circa 3:20pm
Back in the office for maybe 20 minutes, my agency's managing director calls an impromptu meeting to give us the lovely news that my client is going to another agency. That would be the client that I'm 100% resourced on. Shortly, they will not be with the agency. A nonexistent client means a nonexistent job. More on this surely to follow.

Tuesday, circa the entire day
No one knows what's going on with our client leaving or how it's going to play out. All we know for sure is that jobs will be lost. Including mine, potentially. Nothing will happen in the immediate few days or weeks, but it will happen, perhaps even within the next month or two. So throughout the day, there's absolutely something in the air in the office. And circa the entire day, I'm just annoyed.

Tuesday, circa 6:30pm
My normal five minute wait for a bus turns into 20 minutes. Under normal circumstances, this is an annoyance. On this day, this is infuriating.

Tuesday, circa 7:40pm
Halfway through a run to blow off some steam, about as far as I can possibly get from my apartment, I step into a pothole and sprain my ankle. With no way to call anyone or money for a bus or taxi, I proceed to limp the two miles back home.

Now it's Wednesday. I woke up to an ankle that has ballooned, as if someone inserted a golf ball into it last night. I cannot walk, I cannot put any weight on it. So no work today. Instead it was off to the doctor, who's sending me out for an x-ray, because it could be broken. I'm on Forest Gump-style crutches, and it's pouring outside.

Yeah. Woe is freaking me.

Watching baseball on the Internet

It has never looked so good.


We started the season with this beautiful sight, and now we’re nearing the end with the above beautiful sight, which I had the pleasure of enjoying from the comfort of my desk in the middle of a work day. Watching on TV probably would have been a bit better, but if that's what it takes to get this outcome, I'll take it.

One down, two more to go.

Throwin' Kleinballs on the brink of disaster

The Dodgers completed a sweep of the Cubs on Saturday. The Red Sox finished off the pesky Angels on Monday. And I'm one step closer to disaster. I'm officially frightened. And thrilled. I hate myself. And yes, I wouldn't blame you for hating me too.

I'm not sure how much attention Erick Aybar's little dance in protest of his tag on Coco Crisp in Game 2 of the Sox-Angels series received in the US, but when I first saw it, I burst. As did the other Aussies in the room. Thankfully, someone out there was kind enough to a video on YouTube... in the only ridiculously crude fashion that MLB would allow to slip through their iron fist:


With the time difference, most night games are played the next morning my time. This worked out perfectly for me this past weekend, as I got the Sox-Angels on Saturday morning, Dodgers-Cubs on Sunday morning and then, thanks to a three-day weekend (Labour Day in October!), Sox-Angels on Monday morning. Of course, what was perfect for me -- three consecutive mornings/early afternoons of baseball -- probably wasn't so much for my roommates and visitors to my apartment. This came to a head with a marathon of a Game 3 between the Sox and Angels, during which at one point I was surrounded by nine Aussies. As the game went into extra innings and Jason Varitek and Mike Napoli seemingly trying to one-up each other with multiple visits to the mound every inning, I was just waiting for them to revolt, rip the remote from my hand and throw me off the balcony, cheering all the way.

Filling out my weekend with sports, the Rugby League grand final was on Sunday night, between the Melbourne Storm and Manly Sea Eagles. As you may recall, I witnessed the Storm absolutely embarrass the Cronulla Sharks, 28-0, in the semi finals. In the finals, Manly returned the favor and shut out the Storm, 40-0. That's some exciting rugby there!

I have absolutely no idea what this guy is talking about, but if (a) I lived in Jamaica (we can dream, right?) and (b) I didn't do it already, this would make me buy Guinness:


A subtle benefit of living here: being able to thank someone by saying "cheers" or calling a friend "mate" and not sounding like a complete jackass.

We sprung forward last weekend! So for those keeping track at home, until you guys fall back an hour on November 2, I'm now 15 hours ahead of the East and 18 ahead of the West. Those in the middle, you can figure it out on your own.

Or don't worry about the time difference and just come visit! Qantas is currently having a special to Australia, which you can view here. $881 roundtrip from LA, $1,081 roundtrip from New York. Granted the travel must be between October 20 and November 27, but those are honestly the best prices I've ever seen. Get on it!

The John Higgins baseball playoff preview

As I do all too often, I wrote most of this post a few days ago and then sat on it. If I were write it from scratch today, it would probably read a bit different. But that of course isn't going to happen, so please note that some of these thoughts are slightly dated and perhaps irrelevant. You'll deal with it.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Watching one of the first games of the Cubs-Diamondbacks NLDS match-up last year, I noticed with absolute bewilderment that the D-backs had given all of their fans white pom-poms to wave around like a bunch of idiots. At a baseball game. Naturally, this enraged me. In fact, it got me so worked up that I decided to write a team-by-team preview for the playoffs.

This year, the Tampa Bay (Devil) Rays have made the playoffs for the first time in their very non-illustrious history. This history has been so un-illustrious, in fact, that they'd been hemming and hawing for the last few weeks of the season on who would throw out the first pitch for Game 1 of their ALDS match-up against the White Sox. Finally last week, the Rays announced that John Higgins, their very first employee, would have these honors. This didn't enrage me. But I found it to be ridiculously random; Higgins will forever be the answer to a trivia question in the greater Tampa Bay area. And this intrigues me. In fact, it has intrigued me so much that, yes, it's worked me into enough of a tizzy that I'm going to bust out a team-by-team preview -- or probably more accurately, just a random group of my thoughts on each team -- for this year's playoffs.

So here we go, in some sort of particular order:

Chicago White Sox
Who cares. Really. The only reason I'd ever watch this team is on the chance that someone will hit a home run and I'll get to hear their TV announcer's home run call. Seriously. That alone is worth the price of admission. But as for their prospects in the playoffs? Who really cares? After taking a bit of a hiatus after their World Series victory in 1919, they won three years ago, so they've already cashed in their sympathy support. This year, they've limped in as their own manager berated every player on the team in some sort of a misguided attempt to motivate them. Is there even any kind of a compelling story on the team? With the possible exception of Alexei Ramirez? Who cares.

Milwaukee Brewers
Considering how little I really care about this team, I kinda like them. And you gots to love the CC Sabathia. Although you have to wonder about how he's going to pitch next year after throwing 241 innings last year and 253 innings AND COUNTING this year. He is a man, a man's man, a Steve McQueen's man, but after all those innings, I absolutely would not want my team to be signing him this off-season for however many years and at whatever ridiculous salary he's going to demand. Anyway. Like I said, I kinda like this team. But what other pitchers do they have? No one. So they shouldn't win. And they won't win.

Tampa Bay Rays
I really didn't think this team was going to hold onto the AL East lead throughout the year. Not in May, not in June, not in July, and especially not through the grind of August and September. Where's the experience, the proven grit, the knowledge to know how keep at it for 162 games? But somehow, they did it. And I'm convinced. They're absolutely, positively legitimate, with a solid core of players throughout the roster. No absolute game breakers -- and it's this absence that I think has most people befuddled at their success -- but just a solid core of players from top to bottom. Batting, fielding, starting pitching, bullpen. They could go deep.

Philadelphia Phillies
I'm not going to reread what I wrote about the Phillies in this preview last year, because I'm probably about to write the same thing again. And I'm going to keep on writing it every year until they do what's absolutely necessary: they need to win. They must win. Not for the team. For the city. Hell, with all the angst and anger that seeps out of that city and contaminates everything within a 300 mile radius, they need to win for the freaking nation. Does it need to be the Phillies? No. Could be the Sixers. Or the Eagles. And maybe -- just maybe -- even the Flyers. But someone's got to do it. Because if these teams keep on losing, one of these days, after another early exit from the playoffs, that city is just going to implode. If and when you start to see hints of this, and you live anywhere on the Eastern seaboard, run. Just run.

Los Angeles Angels
Hey, isn't it crazy that both teams from LA and Chicago are in these playoffs? And neither team from New York is? I love that. What I don't love are the Angels. Well, I do love them. But I don't. I love Mike Scioscia, I love Mickey Hatcher, I love how Art Moreno runs the team, I love that they're (kinda sorta not really) in the city that I grew up in. But the team as a collective? I don't love them. It's the basically the same team that we've seen since 2002. And it's become boring. They've worn off on me. Whatever.

Chicago Cubs
I'll be honest. I'd be very happy to see one of four teams in this year's playoffs win the World Series. That's right: four, or half the teams in there. We've already discussed the Phillies. We're about to get to two of the other teams. And then there are the Cubs. For they too need to win. And soon. Not necessarily for their city, but for their fans. Need I say anything about their history? Nah, I think I'll leave that for the five bajillion sportswriters out there. Instead, I'll just wish them well.

Los Angeles Dodgers & Boston Red Sox
This is where it gets fun and complicated and intense and shitty and thrilling and frightening. I'll be the first to admit it: very slowly during the 90s and into this decade,* I became a baseball bigamist. And I love and hate myself for it. The Dodgers were the team of my youth. Mike Scioscia. Steve Sax. Orel Hershiser. Jay Howell. Mickey Hatcher. Alfredo Griffen! Fernando Valenzuela. Kirk Gibson. Ron Perranoski!!! My first vivid baseball memory is when my Dad surprised me one October afternoon in 1988 by showing up early at my after school daycare with tickets to one of the NLCS games between the Dodgers and Mets. It was awesome. A few weeks later there was Kirk Gibson limping and seemingly flicking his wrists, Tommy Lasorda wildly flailing his arms, Vin Scully not believing what he just saw, and a World Series victory. That was it. Dodgers -- and absolute playoff futility since then -- for life.

*I absolutely love that we still don't have a name for this decade. It's strange, if you think about it. Names for all the others come so naturally and obviously, but in this decade, no matter what century it may fall in, we have no name for it. And as far as I can tell no one has made a concerted effort to come up with one and make it stick. So it's just some decade. But once we hit 2010, won't we need a name so that we can refer to it? Or are we just going to call it "last decade"? But then what about in 2020? "Two decades ago"? There has to be a name at some point. My favorite is "the naughties". But I'm thinking that's just a little too punny for most people's tastes.

But then, there were long summers on Martha's Vineyard. Red Sox Nation. Endless Red Sox paraphernalia, Red Sox coverage on the local news, Red Sox talk among the locals. And they grew on me. Not in any one moment or any one summer, but slowly, over the course of the 90s, they grew on me. Enter the summer of 2001. I lived in Boston. And that slow growth bloomed into full fandom; I was sucked in. Who's going to buy the Sox? Are they going to tear down Fenway and build a new one? And what the hell is wrong with Dan Duquette? Enter October 2003. I'm in a packed bar in New York, surrounded by Yankees fans. Grady doesn't pull Pedro. Aaron Boone pulls a Bucky Dent. Enter October 2004. Papi. World Series. Happiness.

I've set myself up for disaster. Because I pray that the Dodgers make the World Series. And I pray the Red Sox make the World Series. Yet I pray above all else that the Dodgers and Red Sox don't meet in the World Series. It's a curse, but it's 100% self-inflicted, I know this. So I go into these playoffs hoping for the best for both teams, as long as it really only pans out for one of them.

In this space last year, I didn't make predictions for the playoffs. Shortly after that post, however, I made some calls to a friend in an email, and actually correctly picked the winner of each of the seven series that are played. Seven for seven. This year? I'd love to make some picks here. But I can't. I just can't. It's gutless, I know. But please rest assured knowing that the closer the Dodgers and Red Sox get to the World Series, I'll be ripping my eyes out every step of the way.

Subdued joy in Sydney

Jon Lester pitched the 18th no hitter in Red Sox history yesterday.

I wasn't even aware he had a chance to accomplish the feat until the start of the 9th inning. For I was at work. It was about 11:30am. But upon receiving this news, I stopped everything and spent the next ten minutes intently watching MLB.com's Gameday update every ten to twenty seconds. Just the way I've always imagined watching a potential no hitter from Sydney.

So what did I do when Lester finally got it? A big smile, a pump of the fist. I excitedly looked up, considered telling someone, considered getting a little fist bump action from someone, but it quickly dawned on me: it wasn't going to happen. Because by the time I may have explained it to someone, the moment would have passed. Long since passed.

I somewhat depressingly dwelt on this for about twenty seconds and then went back to work.

No one said there weren't any cons to living here.

Today was a good day

There's no better way to put it.

Woke up to a beautiful, sunny morning. Went for a run along the water. Watched the Red Sox win the World Series. Won money at the casino. And received notification that my work visa has been approved!

The trifecta has been accomplished. Job? Check. Place to live? Check. Work visa? Check!

Work begins tomorrow. And with that, my unemployment officially ends at 102 days.

The "It's really warm and sunny today, I'm gonna bang out some thoughts and get back outside" quick hits edition

Apologies for the lack of posts recently, been sans Internet for the last few days.

Moved into my new place on Saturday, I think it's going to work out just fine. Eight people in all, breaking down as follows: a Turkish guy, Kiwi girl, Irish couple, English couple, Danish guy and me. The furniture and electronics (including heretofore mentioned Internet) are still a work in progress, but it's all coming together nicely. And that includes, from at least what I can tell, zero hidden cameras.

Stayed up far past my bedtime on Saturday night/Sunday morning, making it to the sunrise. Not many buses run at that hour on the weekend, so I hopped on the first one that was going in my general direction. This particular bus stopped about 20 minutes from my place, and the rest of the way is on this coastal walk, perched maybe 100-200 feet above the ocean. As I walked home, with the sun rising above the water, a school (herd?) of whales swam by, shooting water into the air. Very cool.

Want to welcome the newest addition to planet Earth, Jesse Evan Jacobs, my cousin's son. (Is that cousin once removed? Or second cousin? I can never remember these things. Let's keep it simple and just call him my cousin.)

I thought it might be easier to watch the Red Sox in the playoffs with some distance between us. Yeeeaaaaaaahh, that's a negatory. Watched their Game 2 nail biter against the Indians in a local bar with some other Americans and nearly shat myself on numerous occasions. Meanwhile, as this great game marched on to extra innings, 98% of the bar was watching the most boring of Rugby League matches between Australia and New Zealand, which the Kangaroos won, 58-0. Regardless, I swore off of Red Sox games after that, at least for a few days.

And that day would be today... exactly two days and one game later. Watched this game from the comfort of the sports book at the casino here, Star City. And lo and behold, by the fourth inning, they switched the game to the main screen and added audio! My first audio of playoff baseball this year! Which was just in time to witness the Sox kill a potential big rally and refuse to get a hit from there on after. So no baseball for a few days for me. Maybe. (Also would like to add that despite my frustration at Kenny Lofton's home run, his celebration with Victor Martinez in the dugout was fantastic. I'd link to a YouTube clip here, but I can't find it.)

Anyone have any suggestions for a title for these "quick hits" blogs? Might try to do some more.

Still waiting for that work visa.